One More Suicide
by fairy-dust3
Summary: Harry thinks he has nothing left to live for - but his lover and his best friends are there to help him -HPDM
1. Fell into the river

I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, though I have meant the dudey that plays Malfoy.  
  
This is Harry/Draco and Ron/Hermione  
  
This story is set when the 'crew' are 17/18-ish. There is magic but not a lot of spells and that 'cause I'm not really sure of how it works.  
  
For the purposes of this story – Sirius died a week and a half before this starts so near the beginning of 7th year.  
  
Read, enjoy and review – play nice though!  
  
Draco Malfoy threw himself on to the sofa in his bedroom, bottle of beer in hand, and sighed loudly, desperately trying not to hit something. He surveryed the mess around him. Two pairs of shoes had been kicked off at the door and thrown carelessly, two jackets lay in separate heaps on the floor and the shattered remnants of what had, only a few moments before, been a beautiful vase.  
  
He took a deep gulp from the bottle and grimaced. He wasn't a fan of beer – but had been introduced to it through muggles and found it softened the edges on things and helped him to think clearer.  
  
"Harry!" he called.  
  
There was no reply from the bathroom Harry had stormed into the minute they had entered the room. That was one of the advantages of being a seventh year prefect at Hogwarts – single rooms if desired and private bathrooms attached to each one.  
  
Draco and Harry had been together for almost a year – eleven months, three days and seven hours if one wanted to be precise. However, the relationship had all been carried out in secret – not even their best friends knew. On the surface, Harry and Draco still loathed each other with passion enough to scare even the toughest wizard, but when they were alone it was an entirely different type of passion.  
  
Though the two had discussed it many times, there were still several reasons they kept their feelings towards each other a secret from everyone else. Firstly – though many people were accepting of homosexuality, the majority of people at Hogwarts, and in both the wizard and muggle world were not – certainly not Draco's family. Secondly – the two were from houses with their hate for each other written deep into Hogwarts legacy – Griffindor and Slytherin just did not get on, simple as that. And, of course, there was that minor issue of the fact that Draco's father worshipped and helped the person that had been trying to kill Harry for the past seventeen years and had killed Harry's parents and Draco was meant to follow in his father's footsteps to become a Death Eater.  
  
Bloody Malfoy bloodline,  
  
"Harry!" he called again.  
  
Draco heard the water running in the bathroom and sighed loudly again. He wondered where the evening had gone so wrong.  
  
Harry's godfather, whom he viewed as a father figure, Sirius Black, had been killed a week and a half before at the hands of the Death Eaters and, as anyone would expect, Harry was taking it incredibly hard. Sire, he pretended he was okay, but it was easy to tell it was not. What killed Draco was the utter look of helplessness in Harry's green eyes, usually sparkling with energy, but now seeming rather like someone had thrown water over them.  
  
Harry had only left either his or Draco's room for classes, had all but stopped eating, and was obviously not sleeping. Though he sometimes sought comfort in the blond boys arms, it was clear that he could not get what he need from the warm embraces, and had started withdrawing into himself. It was for these reasons that Draco thought it would be a good idea for them to go out that night – just the two of them.  
  
Draco knew of a place in Hogsmeade that few, if any, others at the school did. He had though it would be a good idea for Harry to get out, socialise, maybe work off some of the tension, so he took him to the club he knew of. It had taken him two days to convince Harry it would be fun, and even then he only went with reluctance, and, at first, it seemed like Draco's idea was going to work. They had danced and drank and met new people and it had all been going fine. And then somewhere it went wrong – Draco had gone to find Harry and he'd been angry, paranoid and on edge. They'd argued then and there for reasons Draco was stll unsure of, had argued all the way and were still arguing, words becoming fiercer and more personal as they continued.  
  
Harry had made a comment about Draco becoming his father and that had done it. He had grasped the vase and thrown it at Harry. It only missed the other boys head by his quick reflexes to avoid it. But it had done enough. Draco had seen the looks of fear, hurt, betrayl and overwhelming anger all fill Harry's eyes and he had stormed into the bathroom.  
  
Draco looked down a himself and sneered in disgust at his dirty T-shirt, pulling it over his head in one fluid motion. He hated wearing dirty clothes – the pure though of it disgusted him. One thing that had always intriguied him about Harry was how he could bear to wear the same clothes for more than one day without washing them. But Harry had been known to go three or four, only changing when the clothes would've been capable of walking to the wash by themselves.  
  
However, Harry had had some influence on him. He'd started to wear 'muggle' clothes, like the low slung, baggy jeans he sported at the moment and the Converse trainers on his feet.  
  
Draco glanced at his watch. Harry had been in there for at least half an hour.  
  
"Harry!" he yelled for a third time. "Answer me and open the door or I'm forcing my way in there."  
  
After waiting for a few moments for a reply and not receiving one, Draco stood up, pulled his wand from his back pocket, muttered a quick spell and opened the door.  
  
He was hit by a wave of heat coming from the almost boiling baths Harry insisted on taking, and stopped momentarily, letting himself adjust. He opened his eyes again, wiping the stinging persperation from them. The mirror was shattered, glass twinkling like deadly stars on the linoleum floor.  
  
Draco ran his hand lightly over the mirror and hissed as his palm caught on the serrated edges. It was a small cut, not very deep, but blood was welling all the same.  
  
He had a worried feeling in his gut, tying it into knots, and was almost afraid to turn round and look in the bath. After a few deep breaths he did so, and his breath caught in this throat, his stomach churning dangerously as hot, bitter bile bubbled up.  
  
"Oh my god."  
  
Harry was lying, submerged, in the huge bath tub. The water was red – pure red - blood red.  
  
Draco hesistated for a second, before leaping into the bath and grabbing Harry's head, hauling him up by his unruly black excuse for hair. His lips were blue, his skin was cold, despite the warm bath.  
  
"Help!" Draco shouted as loud as he could, praying to God someone heard him. "Somebody help me!"  
  
It didn't seem like Harry was breathing. Draco cradled him to his chest.  
  
"Help!" he cried again, his throat raw and tears stinging in his eyes. "Please, help."  
  
Someone had to be passing by. And, besides, people in the neighbouring rooms should be able to hear him he was yelling so loud.  
  
"Help!"  
  
He heard footsteps clattering into the bathroom and looked up to see Professor Snape standing at the door, eyes wide in shock, mouth gaping.  
  
"What's happened?"  
  
Draco looked up at him, his ice blue eyes shining with unshed tears. "Harry- I – he – please help."  
  
Okay – I know – very long, lots of descriptions, very little dialogue but that was because I wanted to try and bring a little of the history into this chapter.  
  
Obviously – the idea of the fight and Harry in the bath etc. is from Britney Spears video for 'Everytime' (which I don't actually understand)  
  
R 'n' R por favor!  
  
Oh btw – big whoop for anyone who knows where the story title comes from 


	2. Pity no one was there

Okay, so this is the second chapter. Once again, I own absolutely bugger all – I don't even own the idea for chapter 1!  
  
Draco's POV  
  
If I'm going to be honest, I've loved Harry Potter since I first met him. The first time I lay eyes on him in Madam Malkin's robes in Diagon Alley almost seven years ago I fell in love. And I'm still falling.  
  
Every second of every minute of every hour of everyday I'm falling more and more in love with the Boy That Lived. He's the bravest, kindest person I've ever known and does anything for his friends and the people he loves. Which now includes me.  
  
Even now, hanging on to his life by a thread, Harry is still the most beautiful creature I've ever had the luck to lay my eyes on. His jet black permanantly untidy hair, his bright green eyes that shine like jewels, his well defined cheekbones. I even love his glasses, though they obscure his eyes and tend to get in the way when we kiss. Of course, I love his toned and rock hard body, I'm only human after all.  
  
I don't understand why he's gone and done this. I understand he's broken after Sirius' death but this is just...beyond. Beyond anything. Granted Harry didn't have an easy year – fuck – he's had a pretty crappy life but he seemed like he could put up with anything.  
  
He fought Voldemort four...or was it five...times and still lives to tell the tale. I suppose that remains to be seen. He won the Triwizard Cup, he put up with remarks and snide comments from everyone, me included, and he spent sixteen years leaving with his aunt and uncle.  
  
I guess he finally cracked.  
  
Only Dumbledore knows why I sit vigil at Harry's bedside, why I was there in the first place. He's gone to find Ron and Hermione. They went to Hogsmeade together. He wants to alert them as quickly as possibly.  
  
Is it wrong that I don't want them here?  
  
I know they are Harry's best friends, that they are family to him, but I know that once they arrive I will be pushed aside. They hate me. And how am I going to explain...all of this...to them. They'll probably blame me. Say that I cursed Harry and made him do it. Or, worse, I cut him myself.  
  
Once any one else enters this room, Harry isn't mine anymore, and I'm not his. We're separate people. We're alone.  
  
I hate being alone.   
  
R&R and play nice.  
  
Also – sorry for any spelling mistakes but I don't actually have spell check on my computer – pain in the ass that is. 


End file.
